


Sleep and other goals

by JaqofSpades



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: 50 reasons to have sex, F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uh, uh, vato.  Can't ask you to do that.  Above and beyond the call of duty,” Veronica blustered.  “Only an urban myth, anyway.  Sex can't cure insomnia.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep and other goals

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written to fulfil two challenges: misslucyjane's 50 Reasons to Have Sex Multifandom Fic Fest (#1, to get to sleep) AND Porn Battle XIII. My porn battle prompts were: motorcycle, stakeout, evidence, interrogation, dare, same, rotate, fast. I had no intention of trying to use them ALL when I started, but in the end, I managed! 
> 
> Disclaimer: This fanfiction was written for personal enjoyment rather than profit. No infringement on the rights of the intellectual property owners is intended.
> 
> ***

**Sleep and other goals**

She was sitting in the dark, trying not to think, when her phone buzzed.

3:18: sleep yet?

3:22: no. fuck.

3:29: could work.

3.35: ?????

3.39: :D

3.42: pig.

3:58. Srsly.

Her pulse was still jumping at the thought (he wasn't serious, he couldn't be serious) when the knock came at the door. She yanked it open before she had a chance to think, expecting to find him doubled over with laughter on the stoop. 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” she said, rolling her eyes, before she'd even looked at him properly. He was still in his work clothes, she realised, the tight black t-shirt hugging his chest in a way that left her twitchy. She had exploited every other advantage of his security gig at the Road Hog but this one? It was strictly need-to-know.

Eli Navarro did not need to know how glorious he looked out of his loose shirts and baggy jeans. It would … complicate things. Especially now that they were adults, and mostly on the same side of the law. Especially now that they were friends – real friends, Veronica told herself, who were there for each other and supported each other and put each other ahead of silly things like boyfriends and girlfriends. Silly, she reminded herself sharply, as her eyes lingered too long on the lushness of his lips, before finally climbing up to his eyes.

Not laughing, she discovered.

Not laughing at all.

She gulped.

“Let me do this for you,” he said softly, and she couldn't be hearing this. Had to have misinterpreted it. Friends didn't …

“As a friend,” he said. And fuck, he actually meant it. 

“Uh, uh, vato. Can't ask you to do that. Above and beyond the call of duty,” she blustered. “Only an urban myth, anyway. Sex can't cure insomnia.”

Shit, she'd said it aloud. He was going to die laughing now, because this was a huge misunderstanding on her part, two parts sleep deprivation to one part wishful thinking.

“Maybe that depends on how many times I get you off.”

Her heart stopped. Right there, standing in the doorway to her apartment, Veronica Mars died. She did, however, have enough higher brain function left to beckon him inside, and lock the door behind him.

*

Maybe I could pretend it's a dream, she thought desperately. She was perfectly comfortable in that milieu. Sex dreams and Eli Navarro tended to go together in her head.

“Veronica?” 

Damn. He expected her to say something?

“Get me off?” 

His eyes darkened, and God, it was that look. She hadn't seen it since senior year, before they were actually friends. Before she'd had to start pretending this guy was anything other than insanely hot. And scary. And it wasn't the motorcycle or the gang or even the switchblade. It was something lurking in his eyes. Knowledge. Intent. And the things he made her want to do. 

She'd thought he'd owned temptation, then. She had no idea.

“Oh yeah. Three times. Maybe four. Or we could try and hit it outta the park. Go for the half dozen.” He wasn't even smiling when he said it. Eyes fixed on her face, reading her. Testing.

“Uh. Um.” Eloquent, Veronica. She could have slapped herself in disgust, but then he began to smirk and that – that was Weevil. Oh, how she'd missed Weevil.

She could feel the smile stretching across her face, and my God, was she tilting her head? Really? But apparently Weevil still liked that, and she knew what had to come next, and well, they were grown up now. So she tapped her lip – once, twice – and then her finger slipped inside, to the first joint, and then the second.

His eyes went black.

“So ambitious! I do like a man who sets his goals high,” she purred. “But let's not lose track of the game here. I'm going to need some time to sleep, and – well. Older men, you know. Not so good with the refractory time.”

It was a green light, and he knew it. Her pulse began to hammer as Weevil – sexy, predatory Weevil – returned full force. “No such thing as refraction time if you know what to do with your tongue, baby.” 

Then his teeth flashed and the warm, generous laugh of her friend Eli surrounded them both.

“Besides, I could do with some sleep, too. Last night's stakeout, then working at the Hog – takes it out of a man, keeping up with you chica.”

And there it was.

Holy shit, they were going to do this.

*

He slung his arm over her shoulders as if they were going for a stroll on the beach, rather than heading for the bedroom. Nudged her with his hip to get her moving, and wrinkled his nose at her pjs.

“Snoopy?”

“Not designed for seduction, vato.”

“Don't have to be. Not with you inside of 'em.”

She dragged in a deep breath, and turned towards him. 

“Wanna get me out of 'em?”

“Fuck, yes.”

She'd never realised pajamas were so hard to escape. The minute his warm hands landed on her bare belly, she began to hyperventilate. When they stroked upwards, she began to writhe. And when his lips found a nipple through the faded grey jersey, any thoughts of progress evaporated. The world lurched to a halt, right there in the hallway, as he suckled and teased and nipped and she moaned and begged and swore. Their hips were grinding together, she realised with a shock. His cock was huge and hard, pushing its way into her cleft, and she was rocking her pelvis forward, urging him on.

They were so hot for each other it burned, and how did she not know it would be like this? Had he known?

“Some friend,” she moaned, and she felt his lips stretch into a smile as his tongue flicked her nipple ruthlessly. She slid her hand away from his shoulder to tip his chin upwards, blushing as her nipple sprung free with a distinct pop. 

“Did you know about this?”

“'Bout what?” he frowned, looking confused.

“Me and you! This!”

Understanding spread over his face, chased by amusement. 

“You didn't think we'd be good together?” 

“I tried not to think about us, together! I did a lot of not-thinking!” she protested. “We're friends. Good friends! Friends don't think of friends like this.”

He shrugged.

“Must be a girl thing. Never thought about you any other way. You wanted to be friends, I liked you, so we were friends. Didn't mean I cut my balls off.”

“Charming.”

“I am what I am, V. Are we done talking yet? Because … I wanna get started. Working towards my goal and all.”

She huffed and punched his shoulder.

“Trust me. You were started, vato. Very started.”

He dropped his hand to her pajama shorts, insinuating it between her legs. She was so wet his fingers tangled in the sodden fabric, jarring her poor, swollen clit. Her eyes slid closed, but not before she saw his wolfish grin.

“Shit, girl. You didn't think we'd be hot? Really?”

Sometimes, Veronica had to admit, she could be a little bit stupid. “It's possible I ignored... ” she gasped as he dragged his finger over the sensitive nub, “... a few things.” Like the way I used to watch your hands, all the time. And the way you'd look at me, and I'd feel it everywhere. “Kinda likely, really,” she yelped, as he started to draw spirals over her clit, a constant massage through the wet fabric. He added an insistent thumb and she began to shake. 

“Oh, Jesus, I'm a fucking idiot,” she wailed as the orgasm took her.

*

She was slumped against the wall, his arms bracing her hips to keep her upright. Mmm, yes, she marvelled, as the capacity for thought returned. They are as strong as they look. Her hands, she discovered, were already taking advantage, trailing over the script that decorated one massive bicep, and openly caressing the bulging muscle on the other. She blushed when she found him watching her fondly.

“So, you really did want me for my body?” he whispered, and his Weevil smirk brought back the memory – junior year, in the quad. A heated little conversation that had taken place under the watchful eyes of half the school. He'd accused her of wanting him for his brain, and she'd gagged theatrically, but … they'd both known she was joking.

Which begged the question.

“Why didn't we do this sooner?”

He shrugged. “You needed a friend. After Kane left, I thought maybe, but then graduation happened and …. when I got out, you were with Echolls. And then you really needed a friend.”

“For the record? You're an excellent friend. But this ...” she paused, suddenly realising what she was galloping into.

“What it is, V. Let it be. Friends, more, whatever … we'll figure it out.” He dropped his head to blow into her ear softly, tongue darting out to tease along the outer edge. “Later,” he stressed.

He bent lower to mouth her breast through the pajama top she was somehow still wearing, and just as she was becoming desperate to strip it off, he backed away, mouth twisting in amusement. 

“Bed?” he asked, and she knew that wasn't the only question. He'd put her into bed before. He'd even crawled in beside her, once or twice. But this time, she wasn't crying, or hurt, or exhausted.

Her legs were still unsteady as she pushed him backwards up the hall, and towards her room. When he hesitated in the doorway, she realised that she hadn't quite convinced him. “Let me do this for you,” he'd said. “As a friend.” Their entire world was shifting, set to rotate on a new axis, and it had happened so fast that she'd forgotten to tell him. Or perhaps, it had been so slow that she had assumed he already knew. 

She could sit him down and explain, or … she could show him, she thought, arms already crossing her body to rid herself of the pajama top. If he didn't yet realise what he did to her, he soon would she vowed, stepping out of the pajama shorts and padding across the room to tug him towards the bed.

“Bed, Navarro. But you're gonna need to let me score a few goals of my own.” She pushed him backwards onto the wide, white expanse, then climbed up to crawl after him. His t-shirt had ridden up, leaving a wide swathe of heavily inked skin on show, and she was nearly distracted, then, by the need to investigate and explore – and fuck, his skin tasted so good on her tongue, she just had to do that again. But she had goals, dammit, so she licked a wet, shiny trail all the way up, from hard abs to the top of his sternum. He was busy trying to get his t-shirt off when she straddled his waist, and bent forward to whisper in his ear.

“You should probably know that you're the reason I haven't been able to sleep lately.”

A startled sound came from somewhere within his cotton prison, and when he ridded himself of the shirt, his eyes were round with surprise.

“Thought you didn't think of me that way?”

“Let's just say Eli and Veronica in my dreams? Very friendly. A lot. All night! And then I'd wake up, and couldn't get back to sleep because I was so ...” she swallowed the rest of the sentence as his hands clamped down on her hips, forcing her down hard on his erection.

“Horny? Hot? Wet?”

“Yeah,” she confessed, and bit her lip, remembering last night, and the night before, and the endless parade of nights before that.

“What would you do?” The question throbbed with a sensuality that suggested he knew the answer already, but wanted to hear her admit it. Veronica never could turn down a dare, and if ever there was a time to drive Eli Navarro out of his mind – this was it. So she tilted her head, tapped her lip, then slid her hands down her body until they hovered over her mound, teasing the curls there before slowly parting the lips of her vulva.

His eyes were fixed on her fingers and she'd never seen them so wide and hungry. She couldn't help but play to it, just a little, so she reached down and scissored her fingers around her clit, sliding them up and down, side to side, faster and faster until she was sliding in her own juices, so close …

“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” he begged. “I wanna see.”

And she had never dreamed this, not in a million years, but she damn well should have, because his hands were gently nudging her shoulders backwards until she was reclining like a houri, legs still bent underneath her, knees clasping his sides. It made it easier to slide two fingers inside herself, and still keep her thumb on her clit as she twisted and squelched and stabbed her way to release. 

Her eyes spasmed shut as the orgasm took her, but she could still hear him, that liquid silk voice rough now, so far past seduction that the words came out as raw exclamations of lust and wonder.

“Disfrutarte,” he ordered, and “Venga, baby, venga.” and when she did come, a long, sibilant hiss that degenerated into a tumble of words she suspected were very crude indeed.

Boneless, she flopped backwards, her head landing on his thighs, and lay there, panting. Gradually, she realised the bulge underneath her neck was his neglected cock, still confined inside his jeans. Oversight. Distinct oversight, she told herself, and unzipped him carefully.

“Oh, Eli,” she breathed as he sprang free, jutting and magnificent. She'd spent more time than she cared to admit thinking about his cock, and it was deliciously fitting that he should be short, massively thick, and proudly natural. Her hands couldn't help but encircle him, wrapping around his girth, curious fingers exploring him for the first time.

“Always with the secrets, hey Weevil?” she teased, eyes fixed on the head as it emerged from the mysterious sheath. He laughed, and his sly delight encouraged her to trace his length, and slide the silken skin back and forth over the underlying steel.

He bucked, nearly unseating her, a torrent of jarbled curses suggesting just how sensitive his foreskin was, and it was something about his desperation that snapped her patience.

“Oh God, Eli. Lift!” 

He was still able to chuckle as she whipped away his jeans, but it became a long groan when she sank down onto him without a word, taking him deep inside where she was aching and empty. He was big, and she was small, and the stretch of it actually hurt, but she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop as he filled her with heat and and tension and an urgent, thrashing need.

“Veronica,” he croaked, and she could see control about to desert him. He stilled her hips with a groan, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he opened them again. “No condom?”

“I'm on the pill, and I'm clean, and unless you're HIV positive or something …” she moved up, and slid down, just a fraction, but the message was clear.

“Nah. Nothing. You sure?”

“Navarro! I'm sure! How much evidence do you need?” she growled, lifting herself high and slamming down hard.

“Interrogation over,” he gritted out, and seized her by the hips, sliding her off and underneath him in a dazzling display of coordination. He was driving into her before she had even registered the cool kiss of cotton against her back, thrusts so forceful that she needed to anchor herself with both hands clamped tight to the iron bedhead. They were beyond teasing now, beyond rhythm, and her senses filled with the slap of flesh and the bliss of friction as he shattered her, cell by cell, until there was nothing left to do but sob and scream as oblivion claimed her.

They woke together, tangled like kittens in the centre of her bed. The sunlight streaming through the window was the dark gold of late afternoon, but she was too busy appreciating what it did for his skin to worry about the time.

“Feeling rested?” he asked as Veronica sat up to study the canvas his nakedness had revealed to her. He jumped as her fingers traced a swirl of ink that circled his navel, then walked their way over to the dagger etched into his hip.

“I've never slept twelve hours in my life,” she said, nodding at the clock. “It's far too late to go in to work. I wonder what we'll do with ourselves?”

Weevil flashed her the same wicked smirk that had set them on this path, and pulled her on top of him. “Got a theory to test, mama. Could be here all night.”

And they were.

_fin_


End file.
